


Black, to match my soul

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [39]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, coffee shop AU, quakerider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Quakerider coffee shop AU





	Black, to match my soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [watcherofworlds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/watcherofworlds/gifts).



> For @watcherofworlds (@the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl on Tumblr), who won a fic in my Tumble Milestone giveaway.
> 
> Big thank you to @marvelthismarvelthat for helping me with Spanish and betareading. Also a big thank you to @dilkirani for yet another beta read :)
> 
> Banner by me.

“Hey there!”

Robbie looks up and towards the entrance of the auto shop. He rests his hands on the old Ford Focus he is working on, eyeing the young, dark-haired woman who walks up to Canelo.

“¿Sí?” his boss asks, pulling up his pants.

The visitor extends her hand, holding a business card of sorts, smiling widely. “Daisy Johnson. I wanted to invite you and your crew to my grand opening,” she announces importantly as Canelo takes the card from her, looking somewhat confused.

Daisy gestures through the door. “Just across the street! _Sky Full of Daisies_. Best coffee in town. Check it out!” She gives Canelo finger guns, which only seems to confuse him further.

His boss almost looks relieved when the phone suddenly rings. He mumbles an apology and heads straight for his desk. The woman looks around the auto shop, her eyes meeting Robbie’s.

Robbie drops his gaze back to the motor in front of him, but apparently she doesn’t get the subtle hint, walking up to where he’s working instead of leaving Canelo’s.

“Here are a few more cards. You’re not the only two people working here right?”

Robbie turns his head to look at her. He sighs, straightening up and wiping his hands off on the rag tucked into his belt. Reluctantly, he takes the cards from the overly enthusiastic woman, whose emo look—choker necklace included—doesn’t quite seem to match her sunny disposition. He glances outside and across the street at the brand-new, floral-decorated coffee shop sign, before shaking his head.

“We have a coffee machine here,” he says dryly, ticking his head in the direction of the old coffee maker.

Daisy shrugs, pursing her lips. “Well, on your days off.”

“Don’t come here on my days off.”

She tries not to roll her eyes too obviously, but with little success. “Maybe you can leave some cards out for your customers? In case they have to wait for the repairs to be finished.”

Robbie gestures at the brown, worn couch and magazine-covered coffee table next to the coffee machine. “They can have _our_ coffee in _our_ waiting area.”

Daisy looks at where he’s pointing, raising her eyebrows skeptically. “Quaint. Cozy. Top notch.” She exhales sharply, slumping her shoulders. “Well. Keep us in mind,” she says, having lost all her previous enthusiasm.

“Will do,” Robbie mumbles, his head already halfway back in his repair work.

* * *

* * *

Canelo locks the door to the auto shop, looking over his shoulder at Robbie. “¿Planes importantes para el fin de semana?”

Robbie laughs, twirling his car keys around his index finger before catching them in his palm. “¿Desde cuando yo hago planes para el fin de semana?”

“Vive un poco, mijo.” Canelo slaps Robbie on his back. “Eres un muchacho guapo. ¿No puede ser tan difícil encontrar una chica?”

Robbie walks over to his Charger, grinning one-sidedly. He gently pats the car’s roof, before opening the door on the driver’s side. “Tengo una chica aquí mismo”

Canelo chuckles, shaking his head. “¿Qué vamos a hacer contigo?”

Robbie drops his head back in laughter. He pauses when he hears an engine howling in distress, followed by loud cursing from the alley next to the new coffee shop.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” a female voice yells loudly, as metal clanks echo across the street. “Fuck, shit, fuckety fuck!”

Robbie looks at his boss, who has frozen in his movements as well, listening at the angry voice and the distinct sound of a car being beat up by an angry owner. Robbie closes the door to the Charger again, and both head across the street and into the alley.

“Fuck!” Daisy exclaims again, slamming her hands on the hood of a rusty GMC Conversion van, before kicking the bumper.

“Need help?” Robbie calls out.

Daisy’s head shoots around in surprise. She places her hands on her hips, exhaling sharply. “What?” she barks sharply. “Just because I cuss and kick my deadbeat sorry excuse of a van, I need help?”

Robbie exchanges a brief look with Canelo before they both stare back at Daisy.

She slumps her shoulders in defeat. “Yes. I need help,” she says more quietly.

Canelo slaps Robbie’s back. “Vamos a ver.”

They walk up to the GMC and Robbie opens the hood. They check the various parts, before looking at each other, knowingly, when they both see the root of the problem.

“So? What’s wrong with it?” Daisy asks.

Robbie and Canelo turn around, looking at where she’s standing with her hands crossed in front of her chest. Robbie gestures over his shoulder back at the van. “The engine’s shot. Probably overheated.”

Daisy drops her head back. “Fuck!”

Robbie ticks his head towards the GMC. “How many miles does that thing have?”

“A lot. Okay?” Her gaze falls to the floor, her body language slightly defeated. She sighs deeply, before looking back up. “Can you fix it?”

Robbie looks at his boss. “¿Todavía tenemos el motor de la GMC que yonqueamos el otro día, verdad?”

“Seguro.”

Robbie looks back at Daisy, gesturing down the alley towards the auto shop. “We got a used unit at the shop that should work.”

Her eye widen with a shimmer of hope. “How much is it?”

Once again, Robbie turns to look at Canelo, who holds his silent stare for a moment, before ticking his head to the side, pursing his lips slightly.

“Nine hundred plus labor,” Robbie’s boss announces.

“Fuck,” Daisy exclaims, stomping her foot. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t afford that!”

Robbie lifts his shoulders. “Well, parts don’t come for free.”

Daisy slumps her shoulders, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Yeah, of course not.”

“That’s actually a really good price,” Robbie continues, his tone remaining defensive. “They can go for twice that much.”

She looks back up, holding her hands up in defense. “Yeah, I… I don’t doubt that. It’s just...” She waves one hand to the side towards the building her coffee shop’s in. “I just started this business. I have more money going out than in. I barely know how to—” She pauses, once again dropping her head back. “God. I need this fucking, shitty, fuck shit van to pick up supplies in the morning because I can’t even afford the extra charge for delivery yet. And... and—” She stops, furrowing her brow in thought. “How about a deal?”

“Deal?” Canelo asks, wrinkling his forehead.

Daisy gestures at Canelo and Robbie. “You fix the van and in exchange the entire auto shop gets free coffee until the engine and your work is paid off or until I can afford to pay you.”

Canelo crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking rather skeptical.

Daisy draws a half-circle into the air with both hands. “All the fancy coffee drinks you want! Cappuccino, latte, hot chocolate, tea. And any food! Muffins, brownies, scones, Danishes. Seriously. I’ll keep a tab, and… and as soon as the café makes some money, I’ll pay you the rest—” She pauses, before raising her index finger. “—plus 5% extra!”

She stares at Canelo, whose forehead is still furrowed in thought.

“Please.” Daisy presses the palms of her hands together. “Please! I _just_ opened this place. It’s been my dream since—And I need the stupid van.”

Canelo lets out a deep sigh. “Alright.”

Her mouth gapes slightly ajar. “Really?” she asks in hopeful disbelief.

“Sí.” Canelo bobs his head in confirmation, before looking at Robbie. “Robbie, María me está esperando. ¿Crees que puedas—?”

Robbie scoffs, unable to hide his mild amusement over his boss’ soft heart. He nods. “Sí.”

* * *

* * *

Robbie’s eyes are fixed on the small piece of paper in his left hand, his right leaning on the counter. “Four coffees, two black, one with milk, one with milk and sugar.”

He looks up and into Daisy’s wide-open eyes.

“That’s it?” the coffee shop owner asks.

“Yes,” Robbie replies dryly.

“I’m surprised you needed to write that down.” She squints, grabbing the piece of paper from him and letting her eyes wander over the short list of orders. “I told your boss anything off the menu. Including Danishes and all that shit!”

Robbie leans with both hands on the counter, staring at Daisy. “Four coffees,” he repeats, slowly but with determination. “Two black. One with milk. One with milk and sugar.”

“Gotcha!” Daisy forces a smile, giving him the finger guns. “What size?”

Robbie exhales sharply, shrugging discontentedly. “Medium,” he replies without any enthusiasm.

“Alright.” Daisy grabs four medium to-go cups. “What kind of milk?”

Robbie groans quietly, rolling his eyes and dropping his head back slightly, before growling his answer back through gritted teeth. “The cow kind.”

Daisy holds his stare for a moment, trying to let her building frustration ebb away. “Great,” she snarls back, unable to keep her sarcasm at bay.

She fills the four to-go cups with her medium roast, not daring to ask the annoyed car mechanic any further questions about his coffee order, adds milk to two cups and sugar to one. She marks the cups accordingly and places them in one of the multi-cup to-go trays. Then she grabs a paper bag, filling it with two of the triple-chocolate-chip cookies.

“Here are your coffees,” she says, handing Robbie the tray, before stretching out the hand holding the paper bag. “And here are some cookies to share. Just try them. Who doesn’t like cookies?”

Robbie shrugs nonchalantly but accepts the bag, turning around and heading out the door without a word.

* * *

* * *

His posture is the same as the day before. His eyes are fixed on the small piece of paper in his left hand, his right leaning on the counter. Daisy’s hand already reaches for the medium to-go cups when the first words of his order make her pause.

“Three medium coffees, one black, one with 2% milk, one with 1% milk and sugar, one medium latte with 2% milk. And two of those cookies you gave me last time.”

“Haha!” Daisy laughs out loud, pointing at him, unable to stop from grinning triumphantly. “Only one day and one of you is already getting experimental. I’m gonna convert you one by one!”

* * *

* * *

He’s resting both forearms on the counter, leaning forward, as if he weren’t able to keep himself upright. His eyes stare in agony at the piece of paper in front of him as he sighs deeply. “One medium latte with 1% milk and a shot of vanilla, one medium mocha with skim milk and whipped cream—because that makes sense—one large chocolate-caramel-double-swirl-frappuccino—whatever the fuck that is—a blueberry scone, a triple-chocolate-chip cookie, a blondie, and—” He raises his head, staring at Daisy with tired eyes, “—one medium black coffee.”

Daisy tries in vain to disguise her amused snort as a cough. “You sound exhausted.”

Robbie exhales sharply. “I’ve been demoted to coffee delivery service.”

Daisy chuckles. She grabs the various to-go cups, writing down the orders on each cup with sharpie. “Black coffee yours?”

Robbie raises his eyebrows. “How’d you know?”

“Matches your soul.” Daisy holds Robbie’s gaze, grinning at him teasingly.

He scoffs, looking at the counter, but one corner of his mouth ticks up.

Daisy gasps in pretend shock. “Is that a smile?”

His eyes meet hers again, a brief laugh escaping his lips. He shakes his head, and Daisy notices how his lips twitch as if he were trying to stop them from pulling into an even wider smile.

* * *

* * *

Robbie looks around the busy coffee shop, a smile ghosting over his lips. His eyes wander to where Daisy is preparing the order for Canelo’s: a large latte with 2% milk and a dash of cinnamon, a medium gingerbread latte with 1% milk, a large mocha with skim milk and whipped cream, two brownies, one blueberry muffin, and a medium black coffee. He scoffs, amused by the ridiculousness of his colleagues’ choices. He inhales slowly when Daisy looks up, her dark eyes meeting his. One of her trademark teasing smiles flashes across her face as she pushes the to-go tray with the four cups and the paper bag with the food across the counter towards the register.

“So,” she announces importantly, pushing the order closer to Robbie, her eyes fixed on him. “Elena told me she overheard two women talking about how _you_ were right and this was a much nicer place to wait until their cars were ready than the waiting area at the shop.”

Robbie raises his eyebrows in surprise, pursing his lips slightly. “That so?”

“Yep.” Daisy nods. “That’s what she heard. Also something about the coffee and food here being _excelente_.”

Robbie shrugs. “Well, if that’s what she heard—”

She stares at him in silence for a moment, her eyes growing softer. “Why would you do that?” she asks, her voice more quiet and serious than Robbie had ever heard.

Robbie lifts his shoulders to his ears. “Boost your business.”

She scoffs, her lips pulling into an amused smile. “What do you care about my business?”

Robbie tilts his head back a little, ticking it in the direction of the door. “You got the guys addicted to your fancy coffee drinks.”

Daisy laughs out loud, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That’s a reason for them to care about my business.” She lifts her chin in Robbie’s direction. “What about you, Mr. ‘Coffee, black’?”

Robbie holds her stare, contemplating his answer. He picks up the to-go tray and paper bag, shrugging ever so slightly. “I like having you around,” he admits, smiling one-sidedly, before turning around and heading for the door.

“Hey, Robbie.”

He stops in his tracks, turning around slowly to look at Daisy. “Yeah?”

She’s grinning back at him widely, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I forgot something.”

“What?”

She waves towards herself. “Just bring the cups back.”

Robbie lifts his shoulders in slight confusion. “Guys gonna complain if their drinks are cold.”

Daisy slumps her shoulders, dropping her head back in slight annoyance. “I could be done by now.”

Robbie sighs before returning to the counter, placing the tray back down in front of Daisy. She picks up the cup with black coffee, writing down a phone number, before putting the cup back in its place, a smile playing on her lips.

“What’s that for?” Robbie asks, unable to keep a serious expression himself.

Daisy shrugs nonchalantly. “I like having you in my place of business. But maybe I’d like to have you in other places, too.”

Robbie scoffs in amusement. “Subtle.”

Daisy crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Figure you’d appreciate the no-nonsense approach.”

Robbie nods, picking the tray back up. “I do.”

“So you’ll call?” She lifts her chin in Robbie’s direction.

Robbie purses his lips. “Or I could just pick you up at closing?”

“That’ll work, too.”

Robbie lifts the tray with the drinks and the paper bag a bit higher. “The guys are waiting. I better go or they’ll make me work longer.”

“Can’t have that,” she replies, suggestively.

Robbie turns to leave, but stops halfway to the door, spinning back around. “Hey, Daisy.”

“Yeah?”

“How do _you_ drink your coffee?”

She chuckles quietly, biting her lips and wiggling her eyebrows. “Black, to match my soul.”


End file.
